My Friend is Cupid
by LBoM613
Summary: An old friend drops back into the boys life and sees the connection between the two boys of Baker Street. Seeing the connection this old friends decides to play cupid as they fight crime and solve cases.
1. Old Friends

Chapter one: Old Friends

Sherlock and John walked up to the seemingly abandoned house that was surrounded by police. The house that Lestrade called them from minutes before requesting their help on a new case. Inside the house a woman had been found dead with all the doors locked and the windows shut. When they reach the yellow tape Sally gave her usually greeting, something along the lines of "Hello freak." The duo continued on and walked up to a patiently waiting Lestrade.

"what we got?" John asked the man.

"Well, as I told you she was found in a lock house. A friend came by to visit the man who owns the house and drop off something for him. She was knocking on the door and nobody answered so she grabbed the spare key under the mat like she has done multiple times before and unlocked the door. When she walked into the living room she found the woman on the floor." The group headed into the house weaving their way through the other members of Scotland yard.

"Before I forget, Sherlock, we're expecting a newcomer tonight all the way from the States. They just moved over here. They should be here any time now. They're more of a writer than an investigator, so I would greatly appreciate it if you would go gentle on them."

"But of course, Lestrade. When have I not been gentle with new members of your team?"

John and Lestrade both raised an eyebrow thinking of an incident not even a week ago when Sherlock sent a new officer home in tears. Sherlock simply ignored the pair and head towards the room full of investigators. Sherlock got started with examining the lay out of the room and woman who was lying on the floor.

"Well if it isn't my dearest Sherlly," a feminine voice spoke from the doorway.

"There is only one person that has ever called me that and got away with it," Sherlock smirked as he slowly turned around. Standing in the doorway facing Sherlock was a woman. She had copper brown hair that appeared to be red in the light. She wore a pair of dark blue jeans, Converses, and a black vest with a white undershirt. She had a knowing smirk on her lips that made her blue eyes sparkle with mischief.

"That's because no one else dares to call you that," came the woman's response. Sherlock's smirk turned into a grin as he took in the woman before him. The woman smiled at him in return and rushed towards him launching herself into his arms. She laughed as he lifted her off the ground and spun her around. By now everyone in the room stopped to stare at their favorite sociopath _hugging _the new beautiful guest. When he finally put her to the ground the woman spoke again, "It has been too long my dear old friend!"

"Indeed it has, Amelia," Sherlock replied which earned a grin from her. In the corner of the room, John stared at the scene before him, speechless. He glanced beside him to find Lestrade in a similar state of mind.

"Who is that?" John finally asked him.

"_That _is the newcomer," came Lestrade's reply.

"I guess we don't have to worry that he'll send her home in tears," John said under his breath to Lestrade who gave a dumbfounded nod in return.

Sherlock looked over Amelia's shoulder and said, "I would like to introduce you to my colleague and friend," as he turned her towards the corner towards John and Lestrade.

"Well I'll be damned," she whispered. "Johnny Watts," she said in a louder voice. John instantly turned his head to her and his eyes widened and he gaped at the person before him

"Lia?"

"In the flesh," she smirked lopsidedly at him. He grinned at her and then he had her in a strong embrace, laughing.

"Bloody hell! I thought that I would never see you again, Amelia!" John spoke through his laughter, smiling as he let her go.

"You know each other?" Sherlock asked the pair, surprised to see them both acting so familiar with each other.

"We were childhood friends before I moved to the states," she answered.

"I think there will be a lot of explaining to be done, but please, let's leave that for another time. We are standing in the middle of a crime scene," Lestrade spoke up.

"Ah, yes Lestrade's right," Sherlock said as he spun around facing the forgotten dead body.

* * *

A/N: yay. Ok so this is my first fanfic. My friend finally talked me in to posting it (Go you Demi!). I'll try my best to update on a schedule but I am about to enter college so it might be a little rough at first until I get use to college life. Thanks for reading the first chapter of my first fanfic!


	2. Who is she!

A/N: Hi again! I just move to college and into the dorms a few days ago and started classes recently. Again I will do my best to stay on track and update possibly every other week or every other two weeks. Tell me what you think and so on. Thanks for reading and enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter two: Who is she?!**

_"__Who is this woman?"_ was the one question on everyone's mind. This woman, who appeared out of nowhere, made John smile like a little school boy and Sherlock forget that he was in the same room with a dead body... a very interesting dead body!

Sherlock began to exam the scene again, taking in his surroundings and deducing everything he could about the body.

"John," he called the man over.

"Right," John muttered and lowered himself so he was even with the body and started his usual task of looking over the body. As he moved some hair from her neck he noticed a small puncture wound that could have been made by a syringe.

"Sherlock, look here," he said to the consultant detective. Sherlock lowered himself beside the doctor and saw the wound John was gesturing towards.

"Do you think that she was poisoned?" John asked.

"Possibly. There are no other wounds that would point to how she was murdered otherwise," Sherlock answered.

"Alright Sherlock, what do you got?" Lestrade asked the man as he stood up and walked around the body.

"She was an artist and she was having an affair with the man who lives here. She was planning on seducing him but the killer came and put an end to all that."

"Okay, care to elaborate?" Lestrade asked. Sherlock gave a dramatic sigh and muttered something about "silly little brains."

"She has rough patches and small callouses from where she uses a pencil excessively and she has light smudge marks on the side of her hand and on her finger tips where she would rub her hand across the page and blend the color of the pencil when she shaded her drawings. Though she has a passion for art, she hates the way it leaves her hand so she uses lotion to keep her hands smooth, so she cares about her appearance." Sherlock spoke as he pointed out the facts that were all over her hands.

"Brilliant," John whispered which earned him a small smirk from the ranting detective.

"Does he do that a lot?" Amelia asked Lestrade pointing to John. Lestrade simply rolled his eyes and gave a grunt and nod in response before Sherlock continued.

"She is comfortable and has been here often, which is seen by the fact that there are scattered items that belong to her, such as her art utensils, and because she was here alone. She was planning on seducing him, which is evident her state of dress, and she was in the middle of doing her make-up to make an impression but it is half finished because the killer interrupted her."

"Bloody brilliant," John said shaking his head.

"You do realize that you said that out loud?" Amelia smirked as she cocked her head to the side taking in John's face of awe. A blush spread across his cheeks as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"Sorry, out of habit," he answered her, which made her smirk grow and his blush spread even more.

"Did I miss anything?" Sherlock questioned his audience who stared at him blankly.

"Yes," Amelia spoke up. Everyone's head spun towards her. Sherlock never missed anything. He took in everything and deduced it perfectly. For him to miss something seemed improbable, no, impossible and for Amelia to claim that he did stunned the whole room. She simply smirked and continued with her statement.

"If you look at the finger where her wedding band should be, it says a lot. The fact that there is barely a difference in the skin tone where the ring should be tells that she frequently took her ring off to go out and cheat on her husband with random men or just one man. The fact that she isn't wearing her wedding ring hints towards the fact she was in an unhappy marriage. Either he was a horrid husband and didn't pay much attention to her or she got tired of him and enjoyed the thrill of being with someone else and the sense of thrill of being caught."

Sherlock blinked and then quickly looked at her hand once again. He turned back towards her with a sulking expression.

"You're right, I did miss it," Sherlock grumbled, "There is always something."

The members of Scotland Yard stood in shock, all thinking the same thing: "Who is she?!"

This woman got a smile and a hug out the proclaimed sociopath and from the army doctor, she made Sherlock forget about a dead body that was only a few feet away from him, she pointed out something that Sherlock missed which just never happens... ever. And she deduced exactly what he missed just as Sherlock himself would. Who in the name of God is She?

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	3. The Great Gamble

Chapter 3: The Great Gamble

Amelia just smirked at the sulking detective and the gaping audience. A cell phone ring tone broke the silence in the room. Amelia stopped smirking and dug into her pocket.

"Excuse me," she said before exiting the room to take the call. Eyes followed her right out of the room until she was out of sight.

"Looks like we've got another freak on our hands," Anderson grumbled into the silent room.

"Yeah, but a hot female version," one of the officers added as he stared at the doorway with a dazed expression.

"Close your gaping mouths you utter idiots," Sherlock said to all the people in the room, who did as he commanded with a glare in his direction.

"Inspector Lestrade," Amelia called as she came back in to the room, getting the man's attention.

"Yes?" he asked her while sending a scolding look in Sherlock's direction for the comment he made about them being idiots.

"That was my landlady on the phone. The remainder of my things has arrived and they need me there to assist and sign off on a few things. Do you mind if I head out and meet you tomorrow at the station?"

"Sure, go ahead. There's not much more we can do here," he then turned to John and Sherlock, "John, Sherlock, meet me at the yard tomorrow. We'll know who she is by then and what the cause of death is. There isn't much else that can be done here." Sherlock seemed to adopt a pouting expression at his words. John shook his head at him and grabbed his arm and lead him out of the room so they could head home. Amelia followed after them, smiling at their antics.

"I guess we'll see you tomorrow?" John turned to ask her.

"Yes, I'll see you at the yard tomorrow. After this case is closed we all have to catch up with each other," she answered, smiling brightly at him, which he returned with a nod.

"Good night then, Amelia," John replied.

"Yes, Good night," Sherlock said from behind John giving her a small grin. She gave each a small hug and wished them a good night before she hailed a taxi.

"See ya in the morning boys," she waved before hopping into the taxi.

Lestrade's Office:

"The victim's name was Emma Johnson. She was killed by a poison that was injected into her neck by a syringe. Like Sherlock said, she was an artist and she owns a small art studio a few blocks from her and her husband's flat. She was married to Theodore Johnson. We tried to contact him earlier today but it seems that he is on a business trip and cannot be reached. The house that she was found in is owned by someone named Micheal Sanders. We've tried contacting him but it was a lost cause it seems." Lestrade informed the three people in front of him as he passed the case file around the small group.

"A few other detectives and I will be questioning the victim's family and friends. I would like it if you three would head down to her studio and see if you can find anything." Lestrade continued as he turned to Sherlock, "Having a member of the Yard with you gives me a sense of comfort that you won't get yourself into as much trouble as you normally do." Sherlock let out a small snort at his comment as he looked at the file.

"Oh please, Amelia practically invented the word trouble," Sherlock said. Amelia swung her arm around and whacked him upside his head. John snickered at the two of them. Lestrade groaned as he rubbed his eyes.

"I promise sir that I'll do my best to keep this one out of trouble," Amelia told Lestrade as she gave a sugary sweet smile to him that screamed false innocence.

"Just get a move on will ya?" Lestrade sighed as he waved them out of his office and onto the streets of London to hail a taxi to Mrs. Johnson's art studio.

The three of them entered the dark studio, their footsteps echoing in the room. The only light in the room was the sunlight peeking from behind the obsidian curtains. There were a few paintings and supplies scattered about the small room, but they could hardly be seen through the darkness of the room.

"Lights. Where are the blasted lights?" Amelia muttered as she searched for a light switch by the door. She let out a sound of excitement when her fingers stumbled upon them, flicking them on.

"Well, I liked it better with the lights off," Amelia commented as she looked down at the male body in the middle of the studio, in a pool of his own blood. Sherlock immediately went to the body and started to deduce everything that was before him.

"Bloody hell," John muttered then he looked about the room seeing if the murderer had already left and to see if there was anything he could find. Amelia pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and dialed up Lestrade and told him of what they had found.

"Alright Sherlock we free roam for a few minutes before Lestrade and the rest of them arrive. Let's see what we can find, shall we?" Amelia informed the consulting detective who was already circling the body. His face was blank as his eyes flashed over the body. Amelia joined him by the body in a similar position as she put on a pair of gloves that she carried in her pocket. Sherlock kneeled down beside the head of the body, avoiding the blood on the floor and examining the man's neck.

"John, look," Sherlock motioned for the doctor, "there is a puncture wound on his neck just like the other victim." John nodded as he looked at the wound.

"These look like defensive marks on his wrist and these marks on his knuckles look like he punched whoever attacked him," John said as he gestured to the man's wrist and hand.

"He also has a stamp on the back of his hand. Possibly from a clue of some sort," he added as he looked at the stamp on the victim's hand that had a playing card in the middle of a circle that was starting to fade away. Amelia noticed something in the dead man's pocket and pulled the object out slowly to find that she was holding the man's wallet.

"This is our man Micheal Sanders; the guy that Emma was having an affair with," she said as she showed Sherlock and John the man's license. She turned her head towards the door when she heard multiple car doors slam shut.

"Looks like our time is up," Sherlock muttered as Lestrade burst though the door followed shortly after by a forensic team and other investigators.

"Alright, you lot get started," Lestrade said, nodding his head towards the team "And can you tell me what we got?" he finished as he stared down Amelia and Sherlock, who were both unaffected.

"This man is Micheal Sanders. The man who owned the house that Mrs. Johnson was found in," Amelia answered. She look towards Sherlock and raised an eyebrow clearly stating "your turn." Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"This man is nothing more than a plain businessman. Not only is the expensive suit a hint but also his business card is in his wallet. He has a taste for cheap cigars and has a thing for gambling which is seen in his cufflinks that look like a hand of playing cards." Sherlock began his basic deduction.

"The murderer lured the man here. He snuck up behind him and tried to use the same poison he used on the first victim. The attacker wasn't expecting a fight from him. He swung around and attacked the murderer which is indicated by the wounds on his wrist and knuckles. The murderer, trying to save himself in the shuffle, stabbed the victim. Once would have been enough, but no, the killer repeated the action several times showing that this murder was on a personal level and that he wanted some kind of revenge."

Sherlock finished his deduction in a bored tone but the touch of mischief in his gray eyes hinted that he was enjoying himself and the game of the hunt for the killer.

"Come along John, there's nothing more for us here," Sherlock said the shorter man. John looked at him incredulously. It's not everyday that Sherlock is the one dragging him off the crime scene.

"Sherlock!" Lestrade called after them, "I know your probably going off on your own like usual, but I want Inspector Berkhart to go with you," he finished giving a gentle push to Amelia in their direction.

"We don't need a babysitter," Sherlock grumbled darkly at Lestrade.

"Yeah, we don't. He does," John added, which earned him a few smirks and snickers from the others in the room. Sherlock glared down at him and John simply smirked backup at him.

"Come on boys," Amelia said as she pulled them out the door. She spun around and looked at Sherlock.

"Okay, Sherlly, where are we headed?"

"I think it's time we look into the husband, don't you think?" Sherlock asked with a smirk. Amelia nodded her head and hailed a cab for the three of them.

They stepped out of the cab in front of a flat with a red door and small sign beside it that read "The Johnson's."

"Cozy," Sherlock muttered as he walked up the steps to the front door. "Alright, I'll go around back and climb up the fire escape and get into the flat."

"Sherlock!" John said through clenched teeth as he nodded his head in Amelia's direction. Sherlock huffed as made his way to leave.

"Don't even bother, Sherlock," Amelia spoke up grabbing on to the dark haired man's sleeve. John sighed in some form of relief knowing that they would not be breaking into the flat. Amelia pulled out a small, flat black object that looked like a wallet from her pocket. Opening it she revealed a lock picking kit. John bowed his head in defeat with a groan and Sherlock pouted at her. She pulled out her tools and started to pick the lock until there was a click and opened the door.

"After you," she said to them both as she made a mock bow gesturing into the flat. They entered the flat and were greeted by a cozy living room. The furniture was a shade of cream and the couch was set up in front of a flat screen television. White curtains draped the windows that looked out onto the streets of London. The scent of vanilla hung in the air, giving the room a feeling of comfort.

"Alright, lets have a look around," Amelia said as she walked off into the flat. The three of them roamed the flat looking here and there for anything that would help them. Amelia ended up in the office, Sherlock in the bedroom and John searching about the living room.

After a few minutes of searching through the flat they met up back in the living room.

"It seems that there was someone here not to long again, a couple of hours at most. There are dirty dishes in the sink and a tea mug left out on the table," John said to the group.

"The husband isn't on a business trip. Everything one would need on such trip is in the bedroom untouched," Sherlock added.

"I found this on the desk in the office," Amelia said as she held up what appeared to be a business card in between her pointer and middle finger, "does the symbol look familiar?"

The two men looked at the card to see the same symbol that was stamped on Micheal Sanders' hand. The card was for a gambling club of some sort and held the name of the manager and the address.

"Royal Ace?" Sherlock muttered "I've heard of that place. It's an underground gambling club. Really fancy actually. Only those of wealth attend, but it teeters on the edge of being legal."

"'The edge of being legal'?" John questioned.

"Yes," Sherlock nodded, "some say that in the back rooms, or the VIP rooms, they gamble away things that are less than legal or things that are frowned upon." Sherlock's eyes grew wide, a grin spread across his face and his hands came together in a clap against his lips.

"Of course!" he exclaimed, giddiness flowing off of him in waves.

"What?" John asked staring at him curiously.

"We are going to this club tonight. I think we will find something rather interesting," he answered with a beaming smile. John saw the twinkle in Sherlock's eyes and could not resiting smiling back at him, even though he knew that the twinkle usually meant trouble and danger. They all exited the flat and gathered on the sidewalk.

"You said that this is a fancy club," Amelia stated "as in suits and cocktail dresses?" Sherlock nodded in answer.

"Okay, so I guess we'll meet up later tonight then?" she asked.

"Of course," Sherlock answered, "you can meet us at our flat later tonight. How does nine o'clock sound?"

"That seems decent."

"Alright our address is 221 B Baker street. Just come on up and we will head out after you arrive," Sherlock informed her. A flash of surprise flickered in her eyes when she heard the address, but then a slow smirk formed on her lips.

"Okay, I'll see you boys later tonight then," She said as she wave her goodbye and caught herself a cab.

Sherlock smiled down at John who was frowning a bit. Sherlock cocked his head to the side in a inquisitive gesture.

"John?" Sherlock spoke up, seemingly breaking some type of trance he was in.

"Hm," John looked up in to Sherlock's curious eyes and smiled knowing his unasked question, "it's nothing. Just wondering if I still have a bloody suit at home." The corner of Sherlock's lip twitched at his answer.

221 B Baker Street:

Sherlock laid sprawled out on the couch, his long legs almost danging off the end of it. He was already dressed in his suit. He wore black slacks that accentuated his long legs, a dark dress shirt and blazer with a few of the top buttons on his shirt undone showing some of his pale skin that laid underneath.

He was growing a bit impatient waiting for his two other companions to join him. John was currently in his room still putting on his suit. Sherlock pondered what could possibly take the man so long. Was he having a hard time with his tie or something? A rap on the door woke him from his musing.

He looked up to see Amelia standing in the door way. She was wearing a black cocktail dress that flowed down to her knees and had a small slit in the side. The neckline fall in a U shape and complimented her collar bone. She also wore black strappy heels that had a small modest heel. Her copper hair was done up in curls and fell around her face gracefully.

"Good evening," he greeted her, hopping off the couch as she returned his greeting.

"Where's John?" she asked him, tilting her head to the side.

"He's upstairs in his room still getting ready," Sherlock answered with a slight pout on his lips. She smiled at him for displaying a small bit of childish behavior.

"I will go up and check on him," She said as she ascended the stairs. Amelia walked up the stairs in search of John's room. She walked up to the only door that was shut and assumed that it was his bedroom.

"John?" she called out as she knocked on the door.

"Oh! Amelia!" his muffled answered came with a shuffle of clothes and a light thud sound.

"Are you alright in there?" she asked the doctor.

"Yeah," came his reply, "I'm not used to wearing suits that often. I'll be down in a tick."

"Okay," she said as she left him be and headed down stairs to the living room to join Sherlock, who had taken up post in front of the window near the couch.

"He said that he'll be down in a second," Amelia said to him as she took in the living room and some of the strange objects that it held and the chaotic mess that seem to be everywhere. She walked over to the skull on the mantleplace checking to see if it was real and raised an eyebrow in question when she found that it was.

Footsteps on the stairs alerted them that another person was coming. John stepped into the room messing with the sleeve of his shirt. He wore gray slacks and blazer. His under shirt was a light shade of blue and a dark tie hung around his neck.

Sherlock took in the sight before him. He never really got the chance to see John in anything more than his jeans, t-shirts and jumpers. And he was enchanted by the sight of him in a well-made suit. The dress shirt and jacket fit him perfectly around his shoulders and chest showing the power that was held beneath. The colors seem to flatter him. The dress shirt brought out the color of his eyes and gave them a new light, making him look simply striking.

John fidgeted under Sherlock's intense gaze, a light blush rising to his cheeks. His movements seemed to bring Sherlock back to reality with a grin plastered on his face.

"I think you should wear suits more often, Doctor Watson. They compliment you well," Sherlock said to the doctor which made the blush darken a few more shades of red.

Amelia smirked from the where she stood at the mantle watching the exchange with barely hidden delight.

"He's right," she interrupted their little moment, "They say that the clothes make the man and in this case I can say that it's true." John's cheeks remained rose red as he gave her a small smile for her compliment.

"Alright," Sherlock clapped his hands "let's go."

They took a taxi to a fancy but ordinary looking restaurant. The restaurant had a dazzling crystal chandelier in the middle of the ceiling, giving the place a golden glow. People in suits and and expensive dresses were sitting down enjoying their meals and the company they had with them.

The host slowly approached the trio and asked if he could be of assistance. Sherlock pulled out the card that Amelia found earlier that day from his coat pocket.

"We're he to play," he drawled in his smooth voice. The host eyes gave a sign of recognition and nodded his head.

"Follow me," the host said and turned to lead the group. They walked to the back of the restaurant and down a hall that led to a brown door with patterns carved into it. He opened the door to show a wood staircase that went down and below the restaurant. They reached another door that was similar to the first and the host open the doors yet again.

Beyond the doors there was a casino that looked similar to the restaurant above and was almost as large. There was another chandelier that dangled from the ceiling and white columns that stood in front of the doors that were meant more for decoration than to hold up the ceiling above. The carpet beneath their feet held an elaborate pattern that spoke volumes of money and wealth. There were poker tables scattered around the room and multiple players at each table. Waiters glided between the tables, carrying trays of alcoholic beverages. Laughter and curses hummed in the air throughtou the room.

"Let me see your hands, please," the host said holding out his hand. Amelia place her hand in the host's with a sweet smile which the host returned. He pulled a stamper out of his pocket and stamped the back of her hand. When he removed the stamper there was a red circle with a ace in the middle. He repeated the process for John and Sherlock and put the stamper back in his pocket.

"Enjoy your time at Royal Ace," the host said as he excused himself and headed back upstairs. Sherlock scanned the room before him taking in everything and saw a red rope in front of a hallway that lead to the VIP room which was guarded by a bouncer. He tilted his head in the direction of the room, signaling his companions to follow after him.

"Let me handle this," Amelia muttered quietly to the two men beside her.

"Good evening," she greeted the bouncer with a shining smile, who simply nodded his head in a silent reply "what does it take to get back there?"

"Well," the bouncer started as he examined her for head to foot "are you prepared to play a different kind of poker?"

"Oh, yes indeed, my friends and I are," she answered giving his a sexy smirk that made her eyes twinkle with something unnameable.

"Are you a VIP of some kind?" the bouncer asked staring at her.

"Well, have you ever heard of the books 'Midnight,' 'Blue Rose' and 'Mask'?" she answered his question with her own.

"Of course, they are very popular and are actually by my favorite author," he answered with a cheerful smile.

"Well you flatter me dear sir for you see I am the author of those books," Amelia said with her own smile. The bouncer's jaw dropped as he gaped at her.

"My God! It's a pleasure to meet you Miss Berkhart!" he exclaimed as he held out his hand which she took and shook with her smile still in place.

"Of course you and your friends can enter the VIP room," he continued as he lifted the red rope up so they could walk past.

"Thank you and it was a pleasure meeting you as well," Amelia replied as she passed the bouncer and into the hall to the VIP room.

Inside the room there was only one table that had a few men seated at it. As they played, there were others in the room who watched them play, some of which were their wives who stood next to their husbands.

"May we join you?" Sherlock asked as he pulled out a chair across from a brown haired man with what seemed to be a scratch on his cheek, who seemed to be having some luck tonight as there was a pile of tokens in front of him.

"Why of course," the man answered with a small smile. Sherlock sat himself down and John and Amelia came to stand on either side of him.

"So how are the rules different from the rules to the games that are being played outside of this room?" Sherlock questioned.

"The rules are the same but not only do you play for money but with other things as well," one of the other men at the table answered. Amelia opened up her small black purse that she was carrying with her and pulled out a roll of bills.

"I think you'll only need a hundred's worth of chips for now, don't you agree?" she asked Sherlock as she gave the money to the dealer in exchange for the poker chips that the dealer started to pass to Sherlock.

"What are some of the things that have been played for before?" Sherlock asked the man who had answered him.

"Well, there have been times when people played for ownership of some sort, such as cars, houses and other things. Sometimes it was for items that are not exactly legal. There have also been times when some gambled away other people such as their wife, husband or a family member. The stakes can become very high when you start to play."

The dealer started to deal everyone in as the cards were placed in front of the few players at the table. The game began. Idle chatter filled the room as they continued to play.

"Shall we raise the stakes?" a young blonde man asked as they began a new hand.

"Sure," the man from before said "I bet my car."

"Same," another at the table responded.

"What about you mate?" the blonde man asked as he gestured towards Sherlock. Sherlock looked up at Amelia, who raised an eyebrow and shrugged as her answer. John's eyebrows frowned as he watched the exchange and looked up at Amelia curiously.

"I bet my dear friends here," Sherlock answered as laid his hand on her back in a offering kind of gesture. John held back the need to yell at both Sherlock and Amelia for going totally bonkers. The men nodded and some of them gained an impish grin on their lips.

"May I ask what are some of the things you have gambled away?" Sherlock asked the man beside him as they continued to play.

"Well I have gambled away my car and a few other things but I have also gained numerous other possessions by playing." Sherlock nodded his head at the man beside him.

"What about you, Mr. Johnson?" Sherlock asked the brown haired man across from him. The man jerked in shock hearing his name come from an unknown newcomer.

"Oh, don't bother answering that. I'll tell you. You were playing here a few nights ago. You asked your wife to join you so you could impress her in some way because you could feel that she was distancing herself - maybe you suspected that she was having an affair. You were playing against a friend- no, a colleague, one Micheal Sanders and the stakes started to become higher. He taunted you, coned you with words until you bet the one thing he wanted," Sherlock paused for effect and gauged the man's reactions, "your wife," he finished. Everyone stilled, shell-shocked. Not a sound filled the room as Sherlock rambled off his deductions.

"What you did not know was that Sanders and your wife were already having an affair, probably had for months. You lost the bet. What was it that pushed you over the edge? Was it that you lost? Or did you go and try to rescue her only to find them in bed together and find out about their affair? Ah, it was the second one. You wanted revenge against them both. You obtained the poison and syringes to use to kill them both. You went to Mr. Sander's house first knowing your wife was alone. She opened the door the for you since she knew exactly who you were - you didn't need a key. When she turned her back you plunged that syringe into her neck. Then you lured Sanders to her studio by calling him, asking if you could talk to him. He wasn't ready for your attack but you weren't prepared for him to strike back, which is where you got that darling scratch on your cheek. Out of panic, you picked up a carving knife that your wife had on a nearby table and stabbed him, the same knife you have in your pocket."

The man was shaking throughout Sherlock's whole speech, his cards falling out of his lifeless fingers. Out of desperation, the man grabbed Amelia and spun her around until her back was to his chest. In the flurry of movement he also pulled out the knife from his pocket and held it to her throat, his hand shaking like the rest of him. Screams were heard throughout the room and people scrambled away from him.

"If any of you move or call the yard, I'll her slit her throat!" the man now confirmed as Theodore Johnson yelled. Sherlock simply eyed the man lazily the corners of his lips twitching.

"You picked the wrong person to hold as your hostage," Amelia gave a mischievous smirk. In a flash her hand shot up and moved his arm away from her neck and twisted the arm until it was behind his back in a protesting angle. The man cried out as pain expanded throughout his arm, dropping the knife. Amelia slammed him down on to the poker table and slapped handcuffs around his wrist that seemed to appear out of the air.

"Theodore Johnson, you are under arrest for the murder of Emma Johnson and Micheal Sanders," Amelia said as she pushed him more into the table. John blinked at the sight, the movements being so quick that he barely registered them. He also wondered where the hell those bloody cuffs came from.

Her dress had rose up her leg to display a holster around her upper thigh that held a miniature gun and a holder for her handcuffs, answering his question. She turned to the pair of them and gave a smirk to John.

"A girl's gotta be prepared," she said as she pulled a phone out of her purse. After hitting a few buttons she said to the voice that answered on the other side of the call, "We've got him."

Sherlock got up and walked over to the man who was still pinned down and leveled his face to the other. "You are not a bright person and you couldn't normally get your hands on such chemicals. You could never plan both murders by yourself. Who helped you?"

The man glared at him. Amelia added more pressure to his arm, making him cry out. "Mor-," he tried and then took a breath and repeated himself, "Moriarty."

Sherlock stood up from the man and exchanged a knowing look with John who seemed to be wearing an expression mixed with shock, anger and a hint of disgust.

"Who's Moriarty?" Amelia questioned the two men.

"He's a right pain in the arse that's what he is!" John growled out, surprising Amelia. She'd seen John angry before but it did not happen that often. Seeing this side of him was shocking to say the least. A few moments later, Lestrade and a few other officers came crashing into the room.

"Is that him?" Lestrade asked motioning towards the man who was still pin down on the table by Amelia.

"Yes, this is Theodore Johnson, the husband of Emma Johnson, the first victim," Amelia answered as she passed the man off to Lestrade.

"Alright, we'll take him in," Lestrade said as he grabbed the murderer's arm and started walking towards the door, the others following after him. The group of officers, Sherlock, and John, with an arrested man caught the attention of numerous people in the restaurant and bubbles of questions erupted throughout the room.

Out on the street, Lestrade threw the man into the back of his police car. He turned around and gave the three a stern look.

"I dislike the idea that you when off on your own again," he started, "but I know how you are and I am glad that you helped us close the case." Sherlock rolled his eyes and huffed at the inspector. John smiled up at the dark hair man shaking his head fondly.

"Inspector Berkhart, you may go home but I want a full report in the morning." Lestrade said to her. "You two, on the other hand, I want to hear everything that bloody happened and what evidence we have against this man."

"Yes sir," Amelia said as she gave a mock salute and walked off so she could go home.

"Okay, but may we continue this at my and John's flat?" Sherlock sighed impatiently. Lestrade nodded his head.

"You can come with me to drop off Johnson at the Yard and then we'll go to the flat."

At 221 Baker Street:

Lestrade, John and Sherlock marched their way up the steps and into the hall that lead into John's and Sherlock's flat. Mrs. Hudson's flat door next to the stairs opened. The three men heard her talking to another person in her motherly and affectionate tone.

"I'm so glad that you swung by dearie," Mrs. Hudson smiled at the person that was behind her inside her flat and just out of the boys' line of sight.

"Oh, your home!" Mrs. Hudson gushed when she spotted John and Sherlock, "I wanted to introduce you to your new neighbor." The figure walked out from Mrs. Hudson's flat, her red tinted hair flowing around her.

"Hello again, boys," the figure of one Amelia Berkhart stepped out into the hall with a playful smirk gracing her lovely lips.

* * *

A/N: sorry this is a little later than I wanted, the internet here was going crazy and kept kicking people off. How you liked this chapter, feel free to tell me what you think. thanks for reading!


	4. What are you doing here?

Chapter four: What are you doing here?

The boys gaped at her until John finally found his voice and said "What the bloody hell you doing here?"

"Language John," Mrs. Hudson scolded. Amelia let out a laugh beside the motherly woman.

"I believe Mrs. Hudson just said I'm your new neighbor," Amelia answered.

"Did you see this one coming?" Lestrade whispered his question to Sherlock who still looked a bit stunned, who simply shook his head in answer.

"How about we go up to your flat and I can explain everything from how I know both of you and why I am here in this flat," Amelia suggested to John.

"I think that's a good idea, come on up," John said as he spun on his heels and headed up the stairs leading the others up.

Once they got into the room John plopped himself down on the couch and Sherlock joined him. Amelia and Lestrade sat down in front of them in the two armchairs, getting comfortable.

"Okay, where to start," Amelia muttered.

"How about how a pretty woman like yourself knows these two blockheads," Lestrade said with a raised eyebrow. A light blush painted Amelia's cheeks and she gave him a small smile.

"I would also like to know that answer," John seconded, "And we are not blockheads Lestrade."

Lestrade rolled his eyes and then turned back to Amelia as she started to speak.

"Well, you see mother is a famous author and my father is a laboratory worker with access to highly secured subjects which is actually how father met Mr. Holmes and became friends with him. When I was little my mother and father were invited to the Holmes resident for a get together. Mother and Mrs. Holmes were instant friends. I remember when they took me to introduce me to the Holmes boys, Mycroft and Sherlock. Both of them just stared at me and then Mycroft made a remark off handily based off of a deduction he made about me and then Sherlock pretty much recited the majority of my life story and such. I simply stood there impressed then I crossed my little arms over my chest and then told him that he was wrong about the deduction that my favorite animal was dogs where in actuality it was cats, he assumed that it was dogs because a dog had jumped on me that day and got hair on me. After saying that both of them were impressed that I had the guts to do that and took me under their wings and taught me and how to evolve my deduction skills. "

"That sounds like how we meet," John laughed "he told me everything about myself and then assumed I had a brother because the back of the phone said "To Harry from Clara," when in fact Harry is short for Harriet." Amelia laugh fully knowing who Harriet was and that it was his sister.

"You are never going to let me live that down are you?" Sherlock mumbled. John laughed at him.

"Of course not! It proves that even the great Sherlock Holmes cannot deduce everything and is ignorant to somethings..." John paused, "Like the solar system."

"Oh bloody hell here we go again!" Sherlock shouted, "I deleted it, it's unimportant!"

"But it's primary school Sherlock!" John said back with a wide grin. The two continued to bicker back and front, forgetting they had an audience in front of them.

Amelia grinned at the sight before her, instantly seeing the connect between the two men. She glanced over a Lestrade who had a hint of a smile on his face. He turned to her and she knew that he saw it too. An evil smirked graced her face as she started to plan. Lestrade smirked back knowing exactly where her mind was going. He nodded his head in her direction and then turned back to the bickering couple as Sherlock started to talk about teddy bears and gardens and cleared his throat gaining their attention.

"Sorry," John muttered sheepishly, "please continue."

"I think that they both found me fascinating because I was similar to their skill level yet I had so much emotions and feelings that actually helped me in my deductions. Considering that mother and father are not one to flash around how wealthy we actually were we lived in more middle class area and we ended up as neighbors to the Watson family. The first time I met John I had actually tripped in front of his yard and he saw me. He came rushing over to make sure I was okay and saw that I was fine but I had scraped my knee and was bleeding. He dragged me into his house and patch me up and disinfected the cut just like his mommy taught him," Amelia finished with a smile.

"Playing doctor even then I see," Sherlock smiled down at the blond. John blushed at him and gave a little shrug.

"I just wanted to help her," he mumbled while rubbing the back of his neck in a shy gesture.

"And you did," Amelia commented, "After that we became best friends."

"We sure did," John agreed "but why did I never see you at school? I was always curious about that."

"Even though mom never liked showing off she still sent me to a high-end school. I actually went to the same school as Sherlly and Mycroft."

"What's with the nicknames Sherlly and what was it? Ah! Johnny Watts?" Lestrade asked her. She gave him a small giggle.

"When I was younger I slipped and accidentally said Sherlly to make it sound cute. Come to found out I was the only one to call him that. He was caught in between being annoyed with me or being impressed that I had the nerve to call him that. As for John, I had trouble saying Watson when we first meet so I called him Johnny Watts instead, it stuck after that."

"Interesting," Lestrade mumbled with a small smile forming on his lips. Amelia gave a little laugh and then continued with her story.

"We were great friends and I loved them both dearly and still do, but my family and I had to move back to the states. Mother and father are original from the states, New York actually, but I was born here so I was devastated to know that we would be leaving my home and my two best friends behind. We moved to a more southern area of the states and that's where we stayed for the next handful of years."

"What did you do over there at the states?" John asked.

"After finishing high school I attended college and double majored in criminal justice and English. I become a detective rather quickly and I started to write stories, mostly crime and romance stories based off of the cases that I had. I've become a popular author actually."

"Impressive. Did you know our dear John here is an author himself," Sherlock teased. John's cheeks redden and he started to stammer. A grin started to form on Sherlock lips as he watched John become flustered.

"I-it's nothing, really. It's just a blog about Sherlock and the cases that he has solved." he finally got out.

"I have read it recently actually. I find it fascinating and I enjoyed learning about some of the things that I have missed and how you two meet." Amelia smiled at the two.

"You said you were born here in London and lived in the south, but you do not have much of an accent either way," Lestrade pointed out as he stared at her in interest and changed the subject. Amelia busted out into a laughing fit. When she started to catch her breath she continued on.

"Ah, yes, mother always thought I was a weird child for that. My accents come out though when I'm anger, but only when I am truly pissed off so, If I start talking in a country accent or a British one then you know you have crossed some sort of line with me."

"I would not want to see you mad anyways, you always had one hell of a temper," John commented making Amelia give a sheepish laugh which was aaccompanied by a light dusting of red on her cheeks.

"So why London?" Lestrade asked.

"Well, like I said before, I have always seen London as my home and I missed my home. I also just wanted to get away from the states, so I thought London would have been a perfect choice for me. So I transferred from my unit in the states to Scotland Yard and moved in here and here I am. I never thought that I would run into my two old friends that I have missed so much and becoming their neighbors or that they are now living together, but then again I should have known better. "

"Which leads us to the question, how in bloody hell did you end up at Baker Street?" John asked

"Sherlock," she started catching his attention "I'll give you one guess." Sherlock stared at her for a second his eyes confused until everything fell into place in his mind. He raised his hand to his forehead making a smacking sound in _"of course! I should have known!"_ gesture.

"Mycroft," he groaned out. John nodded his head in understanding as he connected the dots.

"Bingo," she said "you see over the years I've kept up with your dear brother and when I told him I was coming to London and looking for a place to live he suggested that I check out 221 C Baker Street. He told me it would be a work in progress but I love the challenge of a project. So he helped me make contact with the landlady who was elated with the idea of finally renting out that flat. I talked to Mrs. Hudson and she help me fix the place up before I arrived and now I am your new neighbor."

"I should have guess that Mycroft would have pulled a stunt like this," Sherlock said as he gave a small pout.

"Yes, he always had your best interest at heart and loved toying with you," Amelia responded.

"So now you're back in London, our neighbor and in the Scotland Yard," John summed everything up.

"Yes, she is and she is from now on assigned to all the case you two will be brought on to. I need someone in the force who will keep an eye on the two of you and since you all know each other so well she will be the one to do so," Lestrade told them in a stern voice that meant business. John simply nodded in mild agreement, but with underlining excitement of being able to see and work with his old friend. Sherlock gave a groan at the idea and glared a Lestrade, hating the idea of being babysat by someone, but accepting the fact that it would be Amelia who would be doing so.

"And with that said I will be on my way. I wish you all a good night and now that I know where you live, I will see you in the morning detective Burkhart," Lestrade said as he got up gathering his things and headed towards the door excusing himself.

"Well I guess I'll be head out too. I'll see you both tomorrow," Amelia got up and followed Lestrade out the door catching him on the stairs.

"So..." she started with a mischievous grin, "will you help me play cupid?"

* * *

A/N: I am sorry this is so late _. I was sick for about a week and then we had mid terms and I also had a bit of writers block. My dear friend who usually reads over my work and fixes my mistake (who I love with all my heart ^_^) could not read it this time around so there is probably a few mistakes so, please tell me if there is and I will try to fix it up. Thank you for reading ^_^.


	5. Moving in and Plotting

Chapter five: Moving in and plotting

Amelia sat on her living room floor beside a box as she unpacked. As she was sorting through the box she heard a knock on the door. Getting off the floor she went to answer the door to find Lestrade on the other side.

"Good morning inspector," she greeted him.

"Good morning Amelia, and please call me Greg when we are not working," he told her with a smile while she let him into her flat.

Lestrade followed her to the living as he looked around the flat that still had boxes here and there scattered around the room. He notice that the flat was severely fixed up since the last time he was there. The living room was the room that had the least amount of boxes. It was styled similar to Sherlock's and John's flat. The floor was now blue carpet instead of the chipping concert that it once was. On one end of the living room there was two light tan couches with blue accenting pillows that surrounded a flat screen television with a dark brown coffee table between them. On one wall there was a painting full of flowers and color. The back wall held the fire-place that was red brick and seemed to define the room. Beside the fireplace was a black grand piano that would full the room with sweet notes and harmonies.

"Impressive," Lestrade commented "you play?"

"Yes, thanks to Sherlock. He gave me a love for music and a desire to play some instrument like him even though no one can compare to him and the violin." Amelia responded as she moved the few boxes that was in the space out-of-the-way. Lestrade sat himself on one of the couches as he took in the room.

"How do you get it in here?" Lestrade questioned as he examined it from across the room.

"I purchased it here in London and asked the movers to bring it in. How they did it is beyond me," Amelia answered.

"So there are somethings that are out of your limits. I wonder if it's the same for Sherlock," Lestrade smiled

"Would you like some tea?" she asked her guest through her chime like laughter.

"Yes, please."

"How would you like it?"

"Just a few sugars and a bit of cream." Amelia left him in the room as to the kitchen to quickly prepare some tea. She came back to the living room with two mugs of tea, placing one in front of Lestrade.

"So, are you here to discuss the case that Sherlock solved?" Amelia questioned as she placed herself on the couch opposite of Lestrade.

"Yes, but that's not all," he answered. She gave him a knowing grin.

"Okay, let's start with the case first then." he nodded agreeing with her.

"How did everything go over, will it hold up in court?" he asked.

"Everything went smoothly. You know Sherlock, he does not miss a step when he's solving a puzzle. The only thing that maybe hard to explain when this goes to court would be how we knew where to find the man." Lestrade started at her in question before the gears started to fall into place in his head.

"You broke into his flat didn't you?" he narrowed his eyes at her in a questioning way.

"Do you really want to ask that _Detective_?" she said giving him an impish grin that told him everything.

"Not in the slightest, _Detective_," he responded mocking her earning him a wider grin from her.

"Now that that's settled less get down to business," Amelia said as she toss her red tinted hair.

"What do you mean?" Lestrade asked.

"Your here to help me play cupid right," she answered come as a statement. Lestrade gave a small smile.

"Am I that easy to read?" he said as he nodded his head.

"In a way, but I know you saw what I saw and I know that you want both of them happy so it was not so hard to read."

"I guess," Lestrade responded nodding his head in agreement.

"Alright let's start planning," Amelia said as she settled herself more into her couch.

"What do you have in mind?"

"Well first we have to get them to realize that they have feeling for each other," Amelia answered earning her a put out expression from Lestrade.

"Easier said than done, neither of them would even admit that they like each other or men for that instance."

"I think that John may have an idea of what he is feeling, I know he would be willing to be in a relationship with him," Amelia said sipping her tea.

"how's that?" Lestrade questioned, frowning his brow.

"he's bisexual for one," Amelia stated calmly. Lestrade's jaw dropped hitting the floor as he eyes grew to mimic golf balls.

"How do you know that?" he whispered in shock.

"He told me when were still in contact with each other," she told him shrugging her shoulders.

"He never told any of us, he always says that he's not gay," Lestrade said shaking his head.

"Well he's partially gay and he just is not close enough to anyone here to the point where he'll admit it. He accepts that it is who he is but he is does not how others will view it. He feels that they look at him like he is a stranger."

"I feel that you have more to add to," Lestrade continued.

"Well John's more in touch with his emotions, so he might know what he is feeling, but does not want to admit it to himself because he's afraid," she said.

"Understandable. So, how should we go about getting them together?" Lestrade replied.

"Well we could make up an elaborate scheme involving danger, jealousy, high emotion, murder and lots of romance," Amelia answered dramatically.

"Maybe we should just throw them in a room together till they admit their feelings?" Lestrade said hopefully. Amelia laughed at such an image.

"What a romantic idea," Amelia said sarcastically "With that romantic nature I wonder why you're not married Greg," his face fell instantly, adverting his eyes to the fire-place while messing with his ring finger where a gold band once laid.

"You had a wife," Amelia observed solemnly.

"Yeah, she wasn't all that faithful and it brought us to an end. I guess I should thank Sherlock for letting me know otherwise I would have never had known," he spoke quietly with a sad smile upon his lips.

"It's not your fault," Amelia start, making Lestrade's head spin in her direction, "You can't blame yourself for the way your marriage went. Marriage is a street, it goes both ways you gave, she took, then took off, don't punish yourself for that. You are a good man Greg you can rise above all that," Greg gave her a hopeful smile

"Thank you," he muttered.

"For now I think we should see how it all plays out and gauge how everything stands," Amelia directed the conversation to their previous topic, which Lestrade was grateful for, "We could drop little hint here and there and I could possible talk to them both if it heads nowhere... or we could find a way to put John in suit all time." Amelia finished with a smirk. Lestrade furrowed his brow.

"Why?" he asked.

"Well, lets just say that you should have seen Sherlock's reaction to the sight of John in a nice tailor suit," Amelia said with a wink. Lestrade blushed at the thought and cleared his throat in a way to relieve the thought. Amelia grinned evilly.

"Well I guess that's everything then," Lestrade said as he rose off the couch.

"Guess so, I'll see you to the door," Amelia said joining him. She led him to the door in silence.

"I'll see you tomorrow at the yard Detective Berkhart," Lestrade said with a gentle smile.

"Of course Greg," Amelia said returning his smile.

Later that night in Amelia was on her laptop was reading John's new blog.

"The Great Gamble? Really John?" she muttered with a fond grin playing on her lips.

* * *

A/N: I finished writing this awhile back and forgot to post it T^T. I was so mad at myself when I noticed. This week starts of Exam week here at school so I'm studying hard, but afterwards it starts my winter break YAY! I will be writing more during the break and hopeful posting as much as I can. I will mostly be posting on certain weekends so I have time to write. I just hope I don't get writers block because it is a pain. Thanks for reading, till next time :).


	6. Art is in the Eye of the beholder Part I

Chapter six: Art is in the Eye of the beholder Part I

Amelia walked up the stairs that lead to her new neighbor's flat. It had been awhile since she made the move to 221c Baker Street and met her childhood friends. The door was wide open like usual and she peered into the chaotic living room of John and Sherlock's home. The first thought popping in her head was how they needed a housekeeper... but then again it would be too hard to keep said housekeeper with Sherlock in the house, thank God for Mrs. Hudson.

"Sherlock, John," she called out into the flat.

"We're in the kitchen," John said as he peaked out the doorway to the kitchen. Amelia smiled as she walked into the flat and into the kitchen. John was hovering over the kettle on the stove as he made himself a cup of tea and Sherlock sat in a chair at the table as he looked through his microscope.

"You've come to collect us," Sherlock said not sparing her a glance.

"Correct," Amelia answered. Sherlock's face broke out in to a grin as excitement started to race through him at the thought of another case. John gave a small groan.

"And I just finished making tea," John pouted. Sherlock hopped out of his chair and grabbed his coat and scarf from the back of the desk chair.

"No time John. We have a new case on own hands," Sherlock said as he tossed John his coat. John caught it mid-flight and put it on. They all filed out of the flat and hitched a cab. Sherlock looked at Amelia ready to be filled in about this new case.

"I think you'll like this Sherlly," Amelia started "we have a serial killer on our hands." Sherlock grinned at hearing this. Serial killers were always the fun ones and it meant that they may have a case to keep them busy for a while, but this did not mean that he like the idea of so many different people dying just so he can play his little game.

"You see the other day we found a young woman's body in an abandoned building. Nothing really special about her. She was an average look young woman. She was an athlete and played soccer regularly and was just starting to teach her daughter to play. Her body was position kind of oddly. And lastly he left this," Amelia finished by passing a picture. The picture seemed to be of a portion of a painting and had shades of gray, blue and tan and the very top of buildings. Sherlock looked at it with curiosity. John looked over his shoulder and frowned his brows in confusion.

"We're not sure what it is exactly yet," Amelia told them, "Oh were here." they looked out the window to see what was an abandon street littering with members of the Yard and police tape running from one police car mirror to another in front of a dark building. Sherlock spotted Lestrade by the door to the building wearing a tired expression as they hopped out of the cab.

"Busy morning Lestrade?" Sherlock asked.

"You don't want to know, but knowing you, you already know," Lestrade responded narrowing his eyes as Sherlock gave him a cheeky grin.

"Lets go boys," Amelia said as she pushed the group through the door. Lestrade lead them to the crime scene after he had passed them plastic gloves.

The victim was another young woman. Her body was position with one of her legs bent at the knee and her arms over her head. Her brown hair was pulled back in a messy bun with strands of her hair framing her pale face. Sherlock made his rounds around the woman observing ever small detail as John inspected the body finding the cause of death.

"Well it looks like she was strangled with some type of thick cord judging by the bruising around her neck. It also looks like she just died yesterday evening," John stated an started to stand letting Sherlock take over.

"Happily married with a child or two. Judging by her state of dress it looks like she was going somewhere that she wanted to make an impression or just look nice, possibly an appointment of some sort. She knew her killer and was not expecting such an attack. She was also not killed here," Sherlock started "John what do you see?" John blinked at the detective.

"I don't know," John muttered.

"Come on John its obvious not only in her body type but look at the position of the body," Sherlock said looking down at John. John glanced back at her body. John cocked his head as he really looked at her.

"Well, the way her body is positioned it looks like she in a dancing pose," John answered.

"Correct," Sherlock smiled at John which John returned.

"How do you know she wasn't killed here?" Lestrade asked.  
Sherlock raised an eyebrow at him, "you know what never mind I don't want to hear one of your infamous rants today."

"It's simply obvious by the mud on her shoes anyone can see that," Sherlock grumbled which Lestrade ignored.

"He left this," Lestrade said passing Amelia a picture "another one of those bloody pictures."

This one looked similar to the one that was found with the first victim except that this one had different portions of buildings. Amelia flipped the photo over and found a message in what looked like black sharpie.

"If you wish to find me and put a stop to this you must first figure out my puzzle," Amelia read out loud catching the attention of the members in the room.

"Maybe they provide us with the location of our killer," John said looking over Amelia's shoulder reading the message again.

"Or a trap that he wishes us to fall into," Amelia supplied.

"I think you both are right," Sherlock spoke from his spot near the body "I think he is leaving clues to the location of where we can find him, creating a trap by luring us to him and playing by his rules."

"Amelia you know about art then I do, what can you tell us about this?" Sherlock asked surprising a few people around him when he admitted that someone was better at something then himself. He simply rolled his eyes at their gaping faces.

"The fact that it is a photo makes it a bit hard to tell certain thing about it. I can tell you that it was done in watercolor and that is about it for now."

"Her id was on her," Lestrade broke in to the conversation "her name is Lucy Gillion. I think you should speak to her family Amelia. Tell them the news and see if you can find anything."

"Sir yes Sir," Amelia said giving a false salute and strutted out the door with John and Sherlock on her heels.

"Alright lets head to a restaurant and find a phone book so we can look up her address," Amelia stated leading the boys to the main road and to a nearby restaurant. After finding the Gillion's address in the phone book they caught a cab and headed to their residence.

"Alright Sherlock," Amelia started as she walked to the Gillion's door "you're staying out here."

"What? Why?" he asked. Amelia raised an eyebrow at him.

"You are not a people person and I do not want you in there with a grieving family who just found out that their wife and mother was killed," Amelia stated poking at his chest, "now you can either wait here or met us back at Baker Street." Amelia turned around ignoring Sherlock's pout and gestured for John to follow her to the door. She rang the door bell and a man answered the door with a little girl beside his leg.

"Hello I am from Scotland Yard," Amelia said flashing her identification with a sad face when she noticed the curious child, "I have some bad news." The man stood there worry reaching his features. He stood out of the doorway to let John and Amelia in the house.

"Sweetie go to your room okay," he requested of the little girl who nodded and skipped off to her room.

"Is this about Lucy?" Mr. Gillion asked leading them into a sitting room, "she left yesterday and hasn't returned."

"I am sorry to say it is," Amelia began quietly, she never liked this part of her job "she was found dead this morning." Mr. Gillion collapsed on to a couch that was seated behind him shock and pain etched on his face.

"What happened?" he asked in a small voice.

"She was murdered," Amelia said sitting down beside him and tried to comfort him in some way.

"Who would do such a thing? Lucy was always so gentle and caring, everyone loved her," Mr. Gillion said in a shaken voice as tears started to form in his eyes.

"That's what we're going to find out," John told him with determination.

"Your wife had no enemies or anything like that?" Amelia asked.

"No, like I said everyone loved her, even some of those really snotty girls that she danced with sometimes. No one could hate her ," he answered with a small smile, "She was talking about branching out and joining bigger shows. She wanted to get photos done to give to people and companies to see if she could get hired for a performance."

"I am sorry to ask this but was your wife involved in anything illegal or anything like that?" Amelia asked already knowing what the answer was.

"No," Mr. Gillion said in a watery but stern voice, "Lucy was against all of that gang, drugs, all of that stuff. She supported charities for neglected and abuse children for Pete sakes. She would never get involved with any of that."

"I'm sorry I had to ask," Amelia said laying her hand on his arm, "Thank you for your time. You may be called down to the station at some points to be asked more questions." Amelia rose of he seat leaving the man in peace. John followed her out on to the streets to find that Sherlock went off by himself.

"Do you think he was hiding anything?" John questioned as they began walking down the street.

"No, when I asked about her being involved with anything dangerous his expressions flashed between anger and disgust at the thought. When he talked about how loved she was he was truthful and sad at the thought that someone could do this," Amelia answered

"Wait I don't remember seeing his expression changing," John said from beside her.

"Of course not you were simply seeing. I was observing micro-expressions. They're subconscious, we do them without thinking and it happens in a flash," Amelia replied. John's brow frowned in confusion.

"Micro-expression? There should be a bloody book on all of this," John grumbled.

"There is," Amelia said with a smirk "I can let you borrow it if you like. Maybe for a change you can deduce something instead of Sherlock of myself." John gave a small smile considering her offer. John glanced down at his watch for the time.

"Well, I'll say this has been and interesting start to the morning and afternoon." Amelia laughed at John's comment.

"But of course!" She exclaimed "Now let's get back to the flat before Sherlock decides to take revenge on me for not letting in to the victims home." John gave a small laugh and nodded and started talking about the times that Sherlock would wreck the flat when he refused to give Sherlock his cigarettes or how he would sulk when he got annoyed at stuff that John posted on his blog. He had Amelia's sides hurting with laughter in seconds. They arrived at the flat with Amelia still smiling and trying hard not to fallen into a laughing fit. Surprisingly the flat was empty. John went to the kitchen and put on the kettle and soon came back into the living room to sit with Amelia as they waited for Sherlock.

After some time passed Sherlock entered the flat and throw his scarf and infamous black coat onto one of the arm chairs.

"Where did you run off to?" John asked finishing off his tea.

"I went to the dance studio that she practiced at. I looked around for clues and listened into conversation and observed the other members of the studio when they hear about our victim from a news broadcast. I must say reporters work quickly, almost as quick as the homeless network," Sherlock said in a false impressed tone.

"So what did you find?" John questioned taking his and Amelia's empty mugs to the kitchen.

"Nothing really. She was obviously a popular woman among the members. She would help the others and cared for all of them as if they were a part of her family. She was a very good dancer and left lasting impressions. She was also very dedicated to dancing she spend hours on end in that studio. All in all she no one there was our killer and no clue to who it could be."

"She was not involved in anything dangerous," Amelia added "her husband said that no one could hate her."

"I guess that's pretty much a dead-end then," John supplied, Amelia nodded in agreement.

"Well then lets see what we can do about this puzzle then," Sherlock said as he pace the floor of the flat, barely missing the various items on the floor.

Amelia looked at the pictures that Sherlock had put in the rim of the mirror above their fire-place. She heard Sherlock talking about how the message said the pictures were a puzzle and he started to ramble about all the different kinds of puzzles. She watched as one of the photos started to slide out of its place and closer to the other picture in the bottom corner of the mirror.

"It's a sliding puzzle," Amelia stated stopping Sherlock's rambling.

"Of course," Sherlock said clapping his hands with a smirk.

"A sliding puzzle?" John asked curiously.

"You know the ones with the tiles with pictures on them that slide around in their frame with one missing tile so you can shift them in to different places," Amelia respond.

"Oh yeah I use to play with them all the time as a kid," John muttered quietly. Amelia slid the two pictures matching them up and putting them side by side.

"It does not help much, but it is a start," Sherlock started and walked over to his chair in front of his laptop folding himself up until he resembled a pretzel, "I will find out whatever I can about our little puzzle since I am not allowed near the families. I will also do some testing at the hospital and trying to find the link between the victims."

"Amelia and myself will be doing the questioning then," John replied. Amelia nodded in answer.

They discussed the case a little longer, such as connections, the possibility of more victims and what the murder weapon could be. After discussing everything into the evening Amelia rose from her seat and gathered her stuff.

"I am going to the station and tell Lestrade what we have found out so far," Amelia said heading for the door, "night boys."

A few days later found John and Sherlock in their flat much like they were the other morning. John was sitting in one of the armchairs drinking his teas and Sherlock was in the kitchen testing something that he found at the crime scene. Sherlock's phone then disturbed the silence that had come over the flat. John turned to Sherlock and watched as he made no move to retrieve his cell. John rolled his eyes, got up and grabbed Sherlock's mobile and read the text out loud.

"John, there has been another murder- Amelia," Sherlock smiled from his spot at the table and then frowned.

"Why did she address that text to you?" Sherlock asked. Another Bing was released from the cell, again John read it out loud.

"I know you Sherlly. You would wait till John picked up your cell and let him answered it," John smirked, "she does know you well. Also that was a bit freaky even for her."

"No, I am just that good," John read the next message that came and let out a small laugh. The cell went off again with another text message on the screen.

"Now get your butts to North Gower Street now. Do not worry you'll be able to spot us." Sherlock and John quickly grabbed their coats, rushed out of the flat and into a taxi. They soon arrived at the address that Amelia had given them. Police were stationed outside one of the flats with tape across the doorway. Donovan stood by the door and gave her usually greeting as they passed by her and walked into the flat.

They soon found the room that held the victim, Lestrade and Amelia. Amelia and Lestrade nodded their heads in the new arrivals direction. They hung back as Sherlock and John took over the crime scene.

"The landlady found her," Lestrade spoke up "She just started moving into this flat and the landlady came up to ask about the rest of her stuff that the movers were going to bring."

On the hard wood floor laid the new victim. John confirmed that the bruising pattern was a match to the others. She was younger that the previous victims. She was on her back with her left arm bent, her right running across her chest and her head titled to the side as if resting her cheek on an invisible object. Sherlock finished his round around the body and stopped by her head.

"Alright, whatcha got Sherlock?" Lestrade called out.

"Judging by the her faded lip stick and eye linear she has been dead maybe a day. She was graduating this year. Her family owns a few small dogs and she also plays a string instrument, most likely the violin."

"Explain please," Lestrade said with a sigh.

"Eye linear can be a hassle to take off and lasts a good while and the way it is faded such as the lipstick tells us that she was killed a least a day ago. She is wearing class ring it's shiny, not a scratch on it telling us that it is brand new also her class year is on the ring, which happens to be this year. The dog hair on her pant legs tells us what we need to know about the family pets. And lastly her finger tips are tough like mine get when I play the violin. Also with the pose that her body is in mimics the pose that one would be in if they were to start playing the violin."

"I would also say that her family is rich," Amelia spoke up "They gave her this flat as a graduation present it seem. Also the brand she is wearing is pretty pricey."

"I found her wallet in the other room," Anderson said as he walked into the room "her name is Amy Tosh."

"You mean as in _the _Tosh family?" John asked "they are pretty big in the film industry."

"Seems like it," Amelia said.

"Here's another photo we found," Lestrade said "another piece of the puzzle, at least this one maybe a bit more helpful. There was also another message on the back."

Sherlock took the photo and examined it. The photo contained what seemed to be parts of bridges and buildings. Most of the roofs seem to be painted in a green hue and the rest in shades of tan, gray, brown and blue. Sherlock flipped it over and read the message on the backside of the picture.

"Come now you can do better. Solve my puzzle and come get me. I'll be watching and waiting," Sherlock read out loud.

"So he's watching us," Amelia said as she glanced out the window "that's just great." Sherlock nodded and was silent for a passing second and then turned back to the group.

"What are you two still doing here?" Sherlock asked Amelia and John "You know who the family is, I thought you were in charge of talking to the families." Amelia rolled her eyes.

"Alright already were going," Amelia said heading for the door, "come on John. Lestrade I am keeping you in charge of Sherlock."

"I don't need a babysitter," Sherlock grumbled.

"Sometimes I wonder about that," Lestrade muttered "And I am supposed to be your boss Amelia. I am the one who gives out orders."

"Sorry _boss_," Amelia said sarcastically with a wink and retreated out the door with John.

"The nerve of her," Lestrade said and fall into a silent rant about the new member of his task force. Sherlock simply smirked at the grumbling man and the fact that it was not him that put him into that state this time.

John and Amelia stood it front the sizable home of the Tosh family. John knocks on the door which is answered by a man in a tailored suit and a blank expression on his face.

"How may I help you?" the man said in a monotone voice. Amelia pulled out her identification and badge.

"We're here to talk to Mr. and Mrs. Tosh," Amelia spoke in a business tone staring at the man with a stern expression. The man nodded and stepped aside to let them in to the house.

"Follow me," the man said leading them deeper in to the house. He stopped at the entrance to a small sitting room where an older couple were sitting cozily and chatting to themselves. The man gestured to the couple and turned to leave. Amelia and John walked into the room catching the attention of the couple.

"Who are you? May we help you?" the woman asked. Amelia again flashed her identification to the couple.

"I am Detective Berkhart and this is my partner John Watson," she said gesturing towards John "we're here because of your daughter."

"Is she okay?" Mr. Tosh asked rising from his seat to face the detective.

"I am sorry to say but no," Amelia began watching the couple "she was found murdered in her flat this morning."

Mrs. Tosh let out a cry as tears started to rise. Her husband fall on to the couch next to her and took her into his arms as she started to sob. Mr. Tosh rubbed her back as she cried, trying his best to be strong for his wife.

"What happened?" Mr. Tosh asked Amelia. Amelia hesitated to tell the man what happened to his darling daughter.

"She was strangled sir," she finally answered "She was a victim of a serial killer that has taken the life of two other people. We will find her killer sir, I promise you that." He nodded his head in response.

"Do you mind if we ask you both some questions?" Amelia questioned the couple. Mrs. Tosh moved out of her husband's arms, collecting herself to the best of her abilities and nodded her head to the two. Amelia and John sat down on the sofa that sat opposite of the grieving family.

"I can't believe our little girl is gone," Mrs. Tosh's voice shook as she tried to hold back tears "we just had some of her graduation pictures done and just put out a few of the pictures here at the house. She was going to set up an appointment with Mr. Cole to get more done in better lighting. And now she won't even be graduating." A sob escaped the heartbroken mother. Her husband gripped her hand in some form of comfort, "We helped her pay for her flat. She said that she loved us but she wanted to get started on life, have an adventure of her own and have a place to call her own."

"May I ask do you know what she was doing yesterday?" John started with the first question.

"She went over to the flat she was going to move into after graduation to arrange a few things. She told us that she would set up an appointment with Mr. Cole for someday soon and then she was going to hang out with her friends before they had to go their separate ways after graduation," Mrs. Tosh answered her voice still wavering but stronger than before. John wrote down what she said in his little notepad as they continued with the questions.

"Was there anyone that wished to hurt you daughter?" Amelia proceed with the next question.

"No," Mr. Tosh answered "she had some bad ex-boyfriends but they would not stoop to such deeds."

"Was she involved in any dangerous activity?" Amelia asked. Mr. Tosh appeared a bit anger at such a suggestion.

"No, my daughter was a good girl," he said in a stern voice.

"It's just a routine question," Amelia stated. John and Amelia continued asking questions to the couple. They stayed with the couple for a long while questioning them and being a form of support that they need during this time. They were also shown to the Amy's room to see if they could find any clues.

Her room was a normal graduating high school girl's room. There were posters of her favorite bands on the walls. Her violin was resting in the corner in its case in front of a music stand. There was a desk with a laptop and paper scattered here and there. Her room had a few boxes which were going to be sent to her new flat after she graduated. Framed pictures of herself and friends were scattered around the room.

After they were finished it was well into the afternoon. Amelia and John left the Tosh resident and let them mourn their daughter in peace and finish the case that would led to her killer. As they walked out on to the street Amelia cell phone went off.

"A Text from Sherlock," Amelia said as she looked at her cell and read the message out loud "Another body was found. I have already checked it out with Lestrade. Male model name Keith Williams. He lived with is girlfriend at 104 Fair Street. There was a message with this picture and I am already on it. Go talk to the girlfriend see what you can find. Attached is a photo of the position of the body," Amelia let out a groan. She looked at the picture that was attached. The man was a good-looking burnet in his twenties. His hands were in his pockets with his thumbs hooked in his belt loop. His head was titled back as if he was basking in an imaginary light. John looked over her shoulder at the image below.

"I am getting a bit tired of questioning people," she grumbled. John just smirked at her as he summoned a cab to send them off to the next house of yet another victim.

"How can people kill like this?" John asked a hint of anger and sadness in his voice.

"You were in the war John you know how," Amelia as she sat herself down beside the army doctor "it's the why that we are looking for John. Why would someone do such things? Why did they kill so many people? And is it all a sick pleasure to them?" John nodded in agreement as he turned to stare out the window.

They soon arrived at 104 Fair Street and walked to the three door prepared to break another heart since the start of this case. The door open to a pretty blond who appeared to be in her mid twenties early thirties. She was a bit shorter than Amelia and a pleasant smile on her lips.

"Hello how my I help you?" the woman asked.

"I am Detective Berkhart," Amelia said showing her badge "and this is my partner John Watson."

The woman's smile faded. The gears turning in her head. She stepped out of the doorway and lead the two into the living room. Dina sat down in an armchair by the fireplace and John sat in another armchair across from her. Amelia stood beside the fireplace and looked around the room.

"Ma'am," Amelia began.

"Please call me Dina," the blond interrupted giving a small smile "it makes me feel old if you call me ma'am." Amelia gave her a small smile.

"Dina, I am sorry to say that Keith was found dead earlier today," Amelia stated. The effect of her words were immediate. Dina's face dropped and a dam broke inside of her.

"We were talking about marriage," Dina sobbed "we were going to official start our lives together." John rushed to her side as Dina started hyperventilating. As John continued to doctor the poor woman Amelia turned her attention to the fire-place mantle she was leaning against. She observed the pictures that adorned the mantle. Her gaze stopped when it landed on a picture that stood out among the others. In this photo Keith was seen in a grassy area with his hands in his pockets, thumbs around his belt loops and his head titled back basking his face in the sun with a serene smile gracing his lips. Amelia's mind immediately compared it to the way he was laid out when he was killed.

Flashes of the questioning that she held with the other families that fell prey to this killer and the photos that littered their homes.

"Dina," Amelia started calmly "when was this taken." Amelia took the photo down and brought it over to the now somewhat calm woman.

"Keith had it done a while back for a private photo shoot and so he could show other companies some modeling skills he had. He was actually going to get more done by this photographer."

"Do you know who the photographer was?"

"Yeah, he was a nice guy. I still have his card," Dina rose from her seat and left the room to return with a business card in hand, "here."

Amelia took the offered card and looked down at the name. Instantly recognition flowed within her mind. Amelia gave Dina a fake smile and thanked her.

"Do you mind if I take these?" Amelia asked referring to the picture and card, "it will help in our investigation."

"Of course," Dina said. Amelia smiled again and thanked Dina again for her time and walked out the door with a confused John on her heels.

"What is it?" John asked her back as she hailed a cab.

"Does this pose look familiar?" she asked in return hand the photograph over to John. John's eyes shot up from the photo.

"It's the same pose that the killer rearranged him in," John stated. Amelia nodded in response. A cab stopped and they both piled into it as Amelia told the cabbie the address on the business card.

"Mr. Gillion mentioned that his wife had just had photos done of her to expand in the dancing world. Also the graduate student also had photos done and Mrs. Tosh said that she was going to have more photographs taken by a Mr. Cole," Amelia spoke showing John the business card in her hand that held the name "Timothy Cole Photographer" in bold blue letters. "All the position that the bodies were in were something that one would pose for a photographer. The photographer was the only one who could match that pose in the photo of Keith. I over looked it!"

Amelia voice started to raise in intensity. "Photos are so common in homes the people over look them. They adorn the mantles, tables, dressers, all around the one's home. Sherlock would have notice the photos or the fact that families kept referring to a recent photo session. If I only had let him see the families and to see their homes!"

"Don't beat yourself up," John instructed taking her hand and rubbing soothing circles on the back of her hand with his thumb "you thought what the families needed and knowing Sherlock he may have said something inappropriate and hurt them even more than what they needed to be. Sherlock may be a genius but his mouth gets him into a lot of trouble."

Amelia gave a small smile to John who beamed at her in return. Amelia then pulled out her cell phone and text Lestrade the address to meet them at.

Amelia and John were the first to arrive at the photographer's home. Amelia pounded on the door "open up this is the police!" her voice rang through the door. They received no response.

"Back up," John said in his commanding major voice. Amelia instantly stepped to the side and John lifted his leg and kicked in the door. Both pulled out their guns and searched the house in different directions.

"He is not here," John called out as he returned to her side. Amelia pointed to the last down that had yet to be opened. They heard Lestrade's voice call out to them in search of their whereabouts in the home as Amelia approached the door. John's voice called back to the detective and he stood beside Amelia to protect her just in case.

Amelia opened the door to find a photography dark room. They entered the room. Photographs of the victims hung from strings that ran across the room as the red lighting shone down on their faces. They entered the room further as Lestrade walked into the doorway and followed them in.

The three of them looked around the decent sized room until a gasp was heard. John turned his head in Amelia's direction knowing it was released from her. Her eyes were stationed on a wall that held a bulletin board. On it was a painting of the London Eye and buildings and bridges in the surrounding area, that was divided off in section with black tape. Around the painting was were pictures of Sherlock. Red X's and the word "target" adorned the surface of a few. Panic flew through John in an instant at knowing that the killer was truly after Sherlock and he was off on his own knowing God only knows what. He then hear a voice beside say the very words that he was thinking.

"Oh shit."

* * *

A/N: AH! That took much more time then I thought it would. I got stuck with an idea but no way to put it into a story until my dear friends Kriddy helped me out. Thank You Kriddy! please review and tell me what you think thank you. Also the street name North Gower that I used in the story is actually the street that Sherlock is filmed on and I thought it would be neat to sneak that in there.


	7. Art is in the Eye of the beholder Part 2

Chapter Seven: Art is in the Eye of the beholder Part II

Amelia glanced at John and saw the panic in his eyes. Seeing those eyes full of fear made determination set in quickly for Amelia. A fire burned in her eyes. She was going to make sure that Sherlock was coming home. She turned around and left the room, John and Lestrade following after her.

"Donovan," Amelia barked at the officer that stood in the hall as she passed by her, "I am borrowing your car." she continued to march towards the door making sure that John was beside her. He also had gained the same determination to make sure the consultant detective was alright.

"Wait," Donovan called out to them "you don't have my keys to the cruiser." Amelia's arm rose in the air as she stood in the doorway of the front door. She jingled the keys from her fingers and exited the house.

"Oi!" Donovan shouted as she checked her pockets not realizing she had been pick pocketed.

"She's bad as Sherlock," Lestrade grumbled as he watched her and John leave the house. He followed after telling Donovan to get in his car and followed after them down the busy London streets.

* * *

_Earlier with Sherlock_

Sherlock sat in an armchair, his hands before his lips in a prayer position, staring at the wall above the fire-place that was littered with pieces of the case. He had just returned from seeing the body of the new victim who was a male model. Sherlock had move the four pictures in the correct arrangement, leaving only a chunk missing.

He studied the pictures from his seat, naming the different landmarks and buildings that he saw in the puzzle, trying to fit in what was missing from the scene.

"Some say art is in the Eye of the beholder," he read out loud the message that was left on the last photo by the killer, "why is the e in Eye capitalized." Sherlock smirked realizing the answer "I must be losing my touch if it took me this long."

He rushed out of the flat, grabbing his coat and scarf and hopped into a cab. "The Eye of London," he told the driver still wearing a smirk.

Upon arrival he entered one of the capsule and stood looking out at London as they begun to slowly rise. Tourist moved around him taking pictures of the sight below. A man with a camera around his neck and a newspaper in hand approached him.

"Beautiful sight isn't it?" the man asked Sherlock who hummed in agreement. "Have you heard about these murders?" said showing the front page of the newspaper in his hand to Sherlock that had pictures of the crime scenes from distances across the street and photos of Lestrade talking about the murder investigations that were under way.

"Yes, tragic business," Sherlock stated eying the man beside him taking in little details and movements.

"This man, the killer" the man with the newspaper said "most be some level of smart if he can out run the Yard," he paused, glancing at Sherlock, "and the great Sherlock Holmes."

"Out run maybe," Sherlock started starring the man down ,"but there comes a time when you run out of fuel."

"I guess it's a good thing I have a lot of fuel to burn," the man said with a fetal smirk. Sherlock took in the people around him, keeping his voice in hush tones.

"Why?" Sherlock asked "Why did you do it?"

"I wanted to play your game Sherlock," the man said like it was the most obvious thing in the world "I wanted to watch you and your partners dance."

* * *

"Dammit move!" Amelia shouted at the cars in front of her as she sped through the streets of London weaving around cars. John held on to the car door handle a bit fearful of her road rage. They finally made it to the Eye with Lestrade pulling up behind them followed closely by an ambulance he called just in case.

"He's probably on one of the capsules," John said looking up at the massive structure, "How long does it take to go around?"

"It takes a half an hour to make a rotation," Amelia answered as they got out of the car.

"Well, lets hope we have prefect timing and don't have to wait long," John replied.

"You go through the front, I'll come up from the back," Amelia ordered John who gave a sharp nod in return as they both headed in different directions.

* * *

"Now," the killer started as he flashed Sherlock his gun that was attached to his side and covered by his long coat, "let's play hostage." The Eye was descending back to the platform. Sherlock walked off the Eye with the killer at his elbow. When Sherlock spotted some of the Yard members he tried elbowing the man to get away, but ended up with a gun slammed in his face instead, leaving a scratch on his cheek the started to bleed and would most likely bruise later.

"Hold it right there," a voice came from in front of them. John stood beside Lestrade both aiming their guns at the killer.

"Police," Lestrade shouted at the killer. The killer reached for Sherlock, wrapping his arm around his neck and aimed his gun at Sherlock's temple.

"I do not think that's a smart move," Sherlock told the killer, a smirk gracing his lips.

"Oh, and why not?" the killer asked as he stared hard at the men in front of him, pushing the gun harder against Sherlock's temple.

"Well, you see that blond one there," Sherlock said doing his best to nod in John's direction, "he's a trained military soldier. He could kill you in a blink of an eye and leave me unscathed, I have seen him do it before. Also that lovely detective behind pointing her gun at your head may be another reason why that is not a smart move."

The killer froze and heard a click of someone taking a gun off safety from behind him. He turned his head to she Amelia smirking pointing a gun at him. He released Sherlock instantly and dropped his gun.

"Good boy," Amelia said as she slapped the handcuffs on his wrist. John grabbed Sherlock checking over his wounds and dragging him over to the open ambulance. After handing the killer over to Lestrade Amelia joined Sherlock and John.

"What's with them and this blasted blanket?" Amelia heard Sherlock ask John.

"You know what it's for why in the bloody hell are you asking?" John respond shuffling through one of the medical supply kits that the ambulance held.

"I find this thing stupid and pointless," Sherlock grumbled as he waved a chunk of the blanket around in his hand.

"Among other things," John mumbled.

"Yes, among many other things," Sherlock agreed. "John I'm fine," Sherlock said looking as if he wanted to swat John's medical advances away. John simply ignored him and continued to treat his wound.

"No you are not," John said sternly, "you were whacked with a gun and have a bleeding cheek. Do not think you are getting out of this."

Amelia smiled at the two, "You had us worried Sherlly."

"Really?" Sherlock asked cocking his head to the side "Why? You know I can handle myself. This isn't our first case together."

"True, but you were out of our reach. We did not know if the killer already had you or if you were still on the Eye or what. And we know how you have a tendency to rush in to somethings and the trouble it leads to."

"No, I do not. Ow John," he grumbled when John put more pressure on the cut then what was needed.

"Yes, you do," John replied ignoring his cry and continued to patch him up, "she's right. Please do not make me worry again."

Sherlock blinked at John. Looking into John's eyes he could see that John had been truly worried about him. Sherlock remembered the look John had when he pointed the gun at the killer, the look of desire to protect him at any cost. Sherlock felt a bit touched knowing that John would never let anything happen to him and that his friends were worried for him.

"I'll do my best John," Sherlock smiled up at him meaning what he said. John gazed into his eyes searching for the truth, liking what he found he returned Sherlock's smile.

"Good," John said "I would have slapped you if you did." Sherlock gave a small chuckle at the seriousness in John's voice knowing that John would do just that if he worried John like that again.

* * *

A/N: AHHH! finally finished it! between swollen tonsils, doctor visits, crazy family/people, college work included to many essays at once this was sitting on my laptop begging to be finished as I left it to do other things. Next chapter will be up sooner than this one was and it is shorter.


	8. Emotions and Other Things

Chapter Eight: Emotions and Other Things

The next day Amelia walked up the stairs to check on her two favorite boys. The door to the flat was open as usual. Without knocking she entered their flat and found John in the kitchen, sitting at the table, stirring a cup of tea for himself.

"Where's Sherlock?" she asked as she sat down at the table with him.

"He went out for a tick," John answered glancing up from his newspaper that displayed the killer in handcuffs at the Eye and headlines that stated that Sherlock had solved another case. Amelia thought this was a perfect time to have the conversation that she had been dying to have with John since she seen the way that Sherlock eyed him in a suit and the blush that covered his cheeks.

"Can I talk to you?" she asked. He smiled and put away the newspaper and got up and made her cup of tea.

"Of course Amelia," he answered putting the tea in front of her.

"_I guess the blunt route is the best," _Amelia thought "I know you have feelings for Sherlock." John choked on the tea he was drinking. After he stopped coughing. He looked her in the eye ready to deny that statement. When he did he saw the calculating eyes like that of Sherlock. He groan and hid his face in his hands, knowing that he could do no such thing.

"How did you find out?" he asked combing his hands through his sandy hair. Amelia snorted.

"It wasn't that hard to see with you always blushing and such," she paused "I also saw the panic in your eyes when you knew Sherlock was in danger. You were scared that he would not have gotten away with only a scratch on his cheek and a few bruises."

"I never thought that I would fall for him of all people," John said quietly letting out a sigh, "When we first meet I was instantly attracted to him. I mean who wouldn't with that deep voice, dark curly hair and those bloody cheekbones. And then he deduced me and I found it fascinating. When we were at dinner and the guy mistook me for his date I found it... an interesting idea."

John stared at his tea collecting his thoughts, "when I asked him about a girlfriend and he said no I thought maybe, but he simply said that he finds himself married to his work and that's that. Sherlock doesn't do relationships, he doesn't do emotions like love for bloody sakes. I just had to go and fall in love with a loveless man and my flat mate at that."

Amelia reached across the table and gripped his hand, which he squeezed seeking comfort.

"John, Sherlock _does_ feel emotions he just does not like to admit it to himself because sometimes it hurts to feel and it blocks one's mind from their goal when working on cases that he does. He also usually does not care about others' feeling. Sherlock seems so different when he is around you. He cares about what you feel and sometimes it almost as if he is trying to impress you. He cares about you John."

"I can't tell him Amelia. I don't want to get hurt... I can't- I won't ruin our friendship," John said in a shaken voice.

"What if something happens on one of these cases. What if something happened to you or Sherlock? What if Sherlock did not make it off the Eye alive John? Would you regret not telling him how you feel? Would you be able to stand at his bloody grave and not feel regret, pain and anger for not telling him?" Amelia questioned, her British accent started to make an appearance as her voice rose with her temper. John's eyes started to water, soaking in what she had said.

"I don't know Amelia," John whispered tears fighting to escape. He sat slumped in the chair, his eye flicking around the room trying to stay calm and think on what she said.

"I am sorry about upsetting you John, but you needed to open your eyes to that possibility. For all we know Moriarty or another criminal could push him off a roof of a building or strap a bomb to him. You have to realize that you might be living with that pain and emptiness if something like that happened."

"But I would suffer more if he rejects me Amelia. I can't stand the thought that he would reject me and the domino effect it would have on our lives. Our friendship would be awkward and ruined, living here would be too hard, working alongside him and chasing him throughout London and worrying about him, but knowing he would never love me. All of it would be to painful and it would shatter and crumple around us until we break apart and never touch each others lives again," John ranted to her, pain laced in his voice.

Amelia wanted to yell at him that Sherlock would not reject him, that he loved him too, but she know that even Sherlock himself did not realize this fact and that he would most likely reject John because of it. Amelia got out of her seat and held John. John soaked in her comforting heat like a blanket, wishing that his heart would not break and shatter beyond repair and the tears would go away.

"John am sorry," Amelia whispered, "but I do think Sherlock truly cares about you. You are one of the few people that he lets so close to him and into his life. I hope the idiot will open his eyes to emotions and sees how much he truly feels for you."

John gave her a small smile, "I have never heard anyone call Sherlock an idiot, except myself that is." Amelia laughed at his comment and John released a small chuckle. He then buried himself into her shoulder.

"I hope your right Lia," John whispered using the childhood nickname that he attached to her years ago.

"I know am right," she snorted, "I bet he'll come running to and steals your breath away in a fiery kiss that will have you weak in the knees." John smiled with pink rushing across his cheeks.

"That would be one hell of a kiss," John said earning another laugh from his copper haired friend.

"Yes, it would," Amelia smirked pulling away from John and looking in his blue eyes "I could go on with all the naughty thing he would do to you, but I don't want to wet my feet in a puddle of John goo."

"Lia!" John shouted blushing again and gentle pushing her away. Amelia's laughter filled the flat at her blushing friend, one of the many reasons why she loved to tease him. Sherlock's footsteps could be heard entering the living room.

"What did I miss?" he asked looking between a blushing John and a smirking Amelia.

"Nothing!" John stuttered blushing a deeper red.

"Oh, don't lie to Sherlock like that John," Amelia said draping an arm around his shoulder and propping her head on his, "we were have a delightful conversation about emotions and... other things." Amelia gave an evil grin impersonating the Cheshire cat from Wonderland. Sherlock raised an eyebrow and looked down at John who was looking in every direction except for Sherlock's.

"Isn't that right Johnny," Amelia said in an innocent voice as she decided to plop down into his lap, making him jump. Looking down at her, John saw her trying to make an innocent face, but still wearing a hint of an evil grin. He simply laughed at the situation at that point wrapping his arms around one his best friend.

"Oh yes, maybe next time we'll talk about you," John said teasing her, receiving a childish tongue pointing out at him from Amelia. Sherlock watched the two interact with unknown feelings. He shook his head at the two.

"I'm going to leave you two at it then," he said as he left heading to his bedroom. Amelia watched as he left the room, knowing the emotions that flashed through his eyes when he was watching them. She did not let her ability deducing with the connection of emotions go to waste and Sherlock was one of her favorites to deduce. She probably knew other people's emotions better than they did.

Longing. That's what he felt. He longed to be the one John was holding on to, he longed to make him blush like she did, and to make him laugh and grin. She smirked into John's shoulder hiding it from view. Maybe playing cupid was not going to be too hard after all.


End file.
